


No Regrets. Just Questions.

by vega_voices



Series: Patience [5]
Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:19:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> Trust wasn’t the issue.  He wasn’t worried that Mary would follow her tendencies to be completely self-destructive and jump into bed with the smarmy FBI agent, but he was worried that Faber’s solo attention would get her thinking about the huge mistake a romantic relationship between the two of them could be. She was already worried that crossing the line from partnership to romance would ruin them. It wouldn’t be beyond her to plant land mines.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	No Regrets. Just Questions.

_**Fic: In Plain Sight - No Regrets. Just Questions.**_  
 **Title:** No Regrets. Just Questions.  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Mary/Marshall  
 **Rating:** Adult  
 **Timeframe/Spoilers:** During  & Post _Love’s Faber Lost_. Fic makes everything better.  
 **A/N:** This continues the liner time line of my other one-shots. It isn’t a series specifically because I don’t have a plot that links it all together, but it helps to have read the previous stories:  
[Patience](http://community.livejournal.com/vega_voices/45198.html)  
[A Conversation. Of Sorts.](http://community.livejournal.com/vega_voices/45503.html)  
[Cinderella Hated Those Glass Slippers](http://community.livejournal.com/vega_voices/46078.html)  
 **Disclaimer:** I don't own them. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fic. I however, feel like they own me!

 **Summary:** _Trust wasn’t the issue. He wasn’t worried that Mary would follow her tendencies to be completely self-destructive and jump into bed with the smarmy FBI agent, but he was worried that Faber’s solo attention would get her thinking about the huge mistake a romantic relationship between the two of them could be. She was already worried that crossing the line from partnership to romance would ruin them. It wouldn’t be beyond her to plant land mines._

Honestly, Marshall liked prisoner transport. It was a chance to sit and reflect while he driving. But being assigned to a week of driving and handling prisoners and other marshals while still wanting nothing more than to be connected to Mary was difficult. Leaving her alone with Faber didn’t help his worries any.

Trust wasn’t the issue. He wasn’t worried that Mary would follow her tendencies to be completely self-destructive and jump into bed with the smarmy FBI agent, but he was worried that Faber’s solo attention would get her thinking about the huge mistake a romantic relationship between the two of them could be. She was already worried that crossing the line from partnership to romance would ruin them. It wouldn’t be beyond her to plant land mines.

Somewhere between the hills, Marshall came to his own private peace that if Mary tried to sabotage them by sleeping with Faber, he’d forgive her. And then kill the agent in question. He already wanted to. Maybe it was the way the jackass called her Kitten or how he flaunted his perceived FBI authority or …

… or how the truth was that under the overcoat and the attitude, Faber probably wasn’t that bad a guy and he was just trying too hard to impress the pretty girl in class.

Seething quietly, he checked on the prisoner in the back seat. He slept on, under the watchful eye of another marshal.

His phone buzzed. Keeping one eye on the road, Marshall checked the screen and breathed a little bit easier.

 _I miss you. Please don’t get shot and die._

What could he say to that? That she’d repeated it twice meant she really was worried and that she wanted him back. It helped.

Mary. No one saw the woman he did. They saw the angry, abrasive, terrified of commitment cop who lashed out and acted out. No one saw the hurt that always bubbled just below the surface. No one realized how lonely she was. No one realized that she bit hands that reached out to her before they could slap her.

Part of him wondered exactly what she’d gone through as a little girl, but Mary didn’t talk about it beyond having to take care of her mother and sister.

The phone buzzed again. _Call me when you get in tonight. I don’t care when._

She was reaching out. Now he was worried. The instinct of a lover made him want to ignore protocol and just dial and talk to her as her boyfriend, not her partner. But the all too watchful marshal in the backseat kept his fingers still. They had a scheduled stop in twenty minutes. He’d call her then, at least to say hello.

Truth be told, he missed her too. Only two nights together and he was already used to feeling her body next to his. He liked that she woke up first and that she didn’t mind early morning sex and that she trailed her hand along his spine when he collapsed on top of her.

Just this morning, she’d kissed his bullet scar as he got dressed and he’d held her tightly, remembering a drive so much like this one, when they’d almost lost each other in so many ways.

“Girlfriend?” The other marshal asked. “She the one who keeps texting you? They do that sometimes. So clingy when we’re off on the road.”

Marshall chuckled. If only this guy knew. “Yeah, my girlfriend,” it felt good to say the words even if it was a definition Mary would balk at for a while. “But she’s hardly clingy. Just making sure I’m not dead.” Marshall pulled into the gas station and climbed out to refill the tank. His partner for the trip escorted the sleepy prisoner to the bathroom. While the gas pumped, Marshall stepped away from the fumes and pulled out his phone.

 _“You can’t be done for the day,”_ her sharp voice came through the line.

“No, just a scheduled stop. I’m calling to let you know I’m not dead. Nor, incidentally, have I been shot.”

 _“Make sure it stays that way.”_

“Faber behaving?” Her pause gave him pause and he forced himself to remember the peace he’d made with possible outcomes of the jackass’ visit to New Mexico. “Mare?”

 _“He’s not completely what I expected.”_ Marshall tried to quiet the churning in his gut. _“But he’s not you. And if I’m going to make a stupid decision and jump into bed with someone, I want it to be you. So, I would like you back. In one piece.”_

“Doing my best.” Marshall nodded as his partner brought the prisoner back to the truck. “I have to go. Check in with you later, okay?”

 _“Okay. Be safe.”_

“I will. You too.” He hung up and waited for the prisoner to get resettled in the truck before finishing the transaction for the gas. It was time to switch driving; his turn to watch the prisoner sleep. But first, he needed to pee. And to walk off his nervousness. He trusted Mary, but he didn’t trust her desperate need to flee. If she wanted out of a relationship with him, Faber would be the perfect excuse.

***

  
The wine was better than it had any right to be, and Faber was a nicer guy than he had any right to be. She understood him and even why he kept people at arm’s length with that smarmy attitude. It was easier. Underneath it all, he even might be charming. If he’d stop hitting on her.

“We were together three years,” she heard herself confessing about Raphael, “And I'm not even breathing right yet.”

It was the truth. Beyond her own inner turmoil over failing so miserably with Raphael, Faber didn’t need to know about Marshall. It felt nice to be wooed and chased. Marshall had waited for her to come around. If Marshall wasn’t in the picture, Faber’s tricks might have worked, but as scared as she was of whatever it was she and Marshall were doing, she didn’t want to screw it up.

Faber made his way, uncomfortably, out the door and Mary curled back up on the couch, willing the phone to ring. Even a text message. She knew that separations like this were a part of the job but it didn’t make tonight any easier.

On cue, her phone rang. Checking first to make sure she wouldn’t be stuck talking to Faber or her mom, Mary sighed and relaxed back into the couch, suddenly sleepy from the wine. “Hey. It’s late.”

 _“Sorry,”_ came his own weary reply, _“I wanted to be alone to talk to you so I had to convince the other marshal to guard the prisoner tonight.”_

“How’s it going?” Mary really didn’t care, but she wanted to hear him talk, about anything. She hadn’t really realized just how soothing his voice was until she didn’t have it whispering in her ear to go to sleep.

 _“We’re making scheduled progress. I’ll probably be home sooner rather than later. What about with you? Is Faber keeping his hands to himself?”_

At first, the flash of rage at his possessiveness was almost too much to control. But then it hit her – he was genuinely worried that her head had been turned by this guy. He was terrified that she’d find a way to use Faber to get out of whatever it was they were doing. “He made a pass at me tonight,” she admitted. “I held him off.”

 _“Were you tempted?”_

It wasn’t an angry question, just one of resignation. He knew her. It didn’t mean the question didn’t hurt. “No, Marshall. Geez. Get a grip.” But the truth was, she had been. With a sigh, Mary rubbed her eyes and sat up. “No, I wasn’t tempted. Not in the way you’re thinking. But it felt nice to be wooed like he tried tonight.”

 _“I can woo you.”_

The hurt in his voice caught her off guard and she realized what she’d said and how it must have sounded. She paused, searching for the appropriate response. “You do,” she said softly. “And I’m sorry.”

 _“Don’t apologize for being honest, Mary.”_

“Why do you put up with me?”

 _“You don’t know?”_ The question was so gentle, so earnest, that Mary paused again, hating herself. She did know. She just didn’t want the answer spoken out loud. At least, not yet.

“Yeah …” Mary bit her lip and closed her eyes. This had been a mistake. They were a mistake. She couldn’t take his gentle love and his tenderness and his passion and his brains. She could barely breathe and here she was, in bed with her best friend. She had to end it now. While they could still salvage their friendship. “Marshall…”

 _“Don’t. God, don’t say what you’re going to say, Mary.”_

“Why?” She hated that he knew her so well.

 _“Because you don’t mean it.”_

“How do you know?”

 _“Because I know you.”_

She waited. Uncertain. When she woke up in the hospital, a tube down her throat and her body aching in ways she didn’t know were possible, it had been Marshall sitting there, her hand in his. Roses from Raphael and a Venus fly trap from Bobby D, and Marshall, sitting there, reading Daniel Quinn’s _Ishmael_ and waiting for her to open her eyes. He’d kissed the side of her head and walked to get the doctor and laced their fingers together while the tube was pulled from her throat. He hadn’t given her flowers until he came to pick her up and then they were simple and lasted longer than all the other bouquets.

“Talk to me,” she whispered.

 _“About what?”_

“Anything, Marshall. Just, anything.”

 _“Well …”_ He took in a breath, gearing up for a diatribe, and Mary relaxed again. He launched into random information about the Anasazi culture who lived in Chaco Canyon in the eleventh century and Mary closed her eyes and let his familiar voice lull her to sleep.

***

Marshall watched Faber hand over the bottle of wine and steal a kiss from Mary, who looked after him, shocked – and maybe a little pleased at his audacity. His only real consolation was that it was clear she hadn’t kissed him back. The caveman that resided within wanted to stop Faber in the driveway and beat the crap out of him for daring to touch his woman. But it wasn’t Faber’s fault. He didn’t know Mary was involved with someone and acting like the caveman he wanted to be would only out him and Mary and piss Mary off enough that she’d probably never let him touch her again.

So he waited, watching from across the street, while Faber climbed into his FBI issued Taurus and drove away. Mary stayed in the doorway, the bottle of wine in her hands, and he realized she was waiting for him.

She cracked a smile as he approached and, not caring who might see, Marshall slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her softly. “Hi,” he whispered, breaking for air.

“Hi, yourself.”

He’d promised to take her somewhere. The plan had been to drive out to the edge of the desert and open the back of the truck and make love to her with only the stars watching. But she kissed him back and tugged him inside. He decided the stars could wait because he needed safety and security and reassurance that he wasn’t going to be passed over for a schmuck in a moderately expensive suit. The door was locked behind them and she was straddling him on the couch before his thoughts turned back to the scene he’d watched at the door.

“Wait …”

“Marshall, it didn’t mean anything. He kissed me, I didn’t kiss him back.”

“If we weren’t together, would you have?”

“It’s none of your business,” she nipped his neck, “but if we weren’t together, I’d have let him take me to bed the other night.”

“Thank God for small favors then.” The admission hurt, but he’d only ever asked for the truth from her.

“Yes,” she kissed him softly, “because it kept me from being stupid.”

A week without touching her was too much. Marshall forced himself to forget about the distrust he had for Faber and the quibbles he knew Mary felt. Their road together wasn’t going to be easy; he’d accepted that the first time their lips touched. But she was here, on his lap, grinding against him slowly while he pushed her jacket off her shoulders and tugged the shirt over her head. His eye fell on the abandoned bottle of wine and a surge of possessiveness flowed through him. Her breasts, encased in a soft blue lace, taunted him and he leaned forward, taking her nipple between his teeth through the fabric. She moaned and he held her still, pressing her core against his erection, quietly claiming her.

She was his, finally, and he wasn’t walking away from that. His teeth bit, lightly, but with enough pressure to get her attention. He was in control tonight. He needed to do what Faber had not.

Gently, but with a firm pressure, he lifted her off his hips and guided them both to the bedroom. She acquiesced to his will, reading his mind as he so often did hers, and stood still while he unclasped her bra and tugged the rest of her clothes from her body.

Perhaps she needed to be claimed as much as he needed to claim her.

Mary went onto the bed at his direction, lying on her back, legs slightly parted. He watched her bend one knee and slide a hand between her thighs and he wanted to tell her to stop and remind her that he was in charge, but she knew him better than he knew himself. While he struggled with his clothes, she fingered herself, showing him how she liked it and when he stretched out next to her on the bed, he laid his hand over hers, feeling the motions. Her body hitched, once, her sign of an impending orgasm, and he leaned over to bite her neck. “Come, Mary,” he whispered. “For me.”

She did and she called his name, not Faber’s or Raphael’s or anyone else. She called for him and he slipped his middle finger inside her pulsing body and pushed his thumb against her sensitive clit while he nipped at a spot on her neck he was sure clothing would cover in the morning. His. His Mary. She’d always been, but now there was proof.

He could be a possessive sonofabitch when he wanted to be.

Marshall nipped his way down and across her body. They were his breasts, his nipples.

It was his bullet scar. His teeth closed on the soft scar tissue and she gasped, arching hips that were now trapped by the weight of his body. She was wet, dripping, and he felt the heat on his skin. His.

Her legs parted further as he moved down, exposing herself for him. His mouth closed over her clit – his clit – and he bit lightly, the jolt on her body making her squirm and his hands forced her to hold still. She could run all she wanted, but he was done standing still.

Above him, Mary gasped his name and he heard the tears and pleading in her voice. She wasn’t used to this, he knew. No one had claimed her quite like this. No one dared to. He was up for the challenge.

In a swift movement, he pushed his tongue inside her and felt another surge of tremors shake her. Again, she called his name. Not Faber’s or Raphael’s or any other man who had ever laid next to her.

He crawled back up her body, settling between her weak legs. “Can you handle more?” Not opposed to directing her head to his cock so she could finish him off, but he wanted to instead come inside her. Her affirmative nod reassured him that despite her clear exhaustion, it wasn’t too much.

Claiming her body the way he’d claimed the rest of her, he slammed his hips into hers and coaxed one leg up higher, granting further access. She was his. His. The nails that bit into his back and the kisses she stole from his mouth proved it. But he needed her to cry his name one more time. Just once more.

He got what he wanted as she crashed over the edge, dragging him with her. Tears streamed from her eyes as she whispered his name, trembling, and he covered her body with his own, stroking her softly.

“Marshall …” she hiccupped, her face pressed into his neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

He stayed until she pushed at him. Logic told him about wet spots and sticky messes, but he just rolled over and pulled her into his arms, her head pillowed on his chest. The million things he needed to stay stuck in his throat so he stroked her hair, his fingers gently picking through tangles and massaging her scalp. He loved her. He just didn’t dare say it. Not yet.

A shaking arm snaked around his waist and clung to him. She still trembled, seeking contact, and he couldn’t help but wonder exactly what headspace she’d disappeared into while he was ravaging her. He did know that right now, talking wasn’t the answer. Dropping a kiss onto her hair, he felt her snuggle close, and he regretted moving both of them but he wanted to fall asleep under the comforter. Resettled, he stroked her back and the long week, his fears about Mary, and the sex caught up to him suddenly. With a final shared kiss, he let sleep claim him.


End file.
